Forger's Redemption
by WildHorseFantasy
Summary: Who forged the painting? It looks like a retired forger has returned. Or has he?  If Peter and Neal don't find the truth, a family and a charity will be destroyed. references to September 11th and rated T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Just for fun, not for profit. Thanks to all those who really bring White Collar to life, **

**Other Notes: I made the artist being forged up. The artist named Orwin is based entirely in fiction, as far as I know there is no such artist.**

**And Finally: in (belated) tribute to the fallen and heroes of September 11th, 2001**

Neal smiled as he strode through the gallery door. "Hi Elizabeth." He glanced around. This was the place she worked at when she wasn't busy with Burke's Premier Events.

"Hey Neal." She looked past him questioningly. "Where's Peter?"

"Stuck in traffic. I was closer."

"Sometimes it really is faster to walk." She shook her head and smiled.

A man strode in, "Elizabeth...Oh hello."

"Robert. This is Neal Caffrey. He's Peter's consultant."

"Neal this is Robert Darning. He's runs the gallery."

"Where is Peter?"

"Stuck in traffic. He's on the way. He asked me to meet him here." Ordered, really, but no need to tell Darning that.

"Well, would you like to see the piece?"

"I'd be delighted." Neal gave Elizabeth a questioning look. Peter hadn't given him any details beyond a forged painting had been found.

As he glanced around the room he was led into, he recognized it as the place he'd had to secretly switch out the swatch of his painting that had been burned in the U-boat fire. A complete painting lay on the workbench.

"This is it. It's supposed to be an Orwin. At first we thought someone had spilled something on it. It turns out part of it was painted with water based oils, something Orwin never used."

"Water based oils are very a recent invention too." Neal leaned closer. He picked up a magnifying glass, then sniffed thoughtfully. Voices came from outside.

"Excuse me." The man stepped out.

Neal allowed himself a half smile. He carefully eyed the painting, eyes searching style of strokes, colors and looking for identifying marks. Outside footsteps approached. Peter had arrived and was talking to the gallery manager. The door opened.

"Neal." Peter was looking over his shoulder now and taking the painting. "Any thoughts?"

"Maybe. Orwin only did a few pieces. It looks like the forger signed it but..." Neal frowned, shaking his head.

"Where?" Peter leaned forward. Neal pointed. "You sure that's not just a smudge?" Peter demanded.

"It's not."

"I can't quite read that." Peter tried to read slowly. "Okay. We'll look up Reb...that's a symbol not a letter.." He glanced sidelong at Neal.  
>What's with the frown?"<p>

"Nothing."

Peter's eyes narrowed. "Neal. You have that 'I'm holding back' look."

"I'm not holding back. I just don't want to say anything until I confirm some facts."

Peter would have challenged this had Elizabeth not come up to ask how it went. Neal took the opportunity to duck outside and call Mozzie.

"Mozzie? Didn't Rebny retire?"

"After September 11, yeah. Went straight and started giving everything to charity. Why?"

"Peter and I just found an Orwin forgery signed by Rebny. Recent painting too, I can still smell the paint."

"No way. He left the biz but good."

"That's what I thought. How can I contact him?"

"Neal, if you drag the Feds to his door, it will ruin all his charities and mess up his new life."  
>"I thought you said old cons never die, our smiles just fade away?"<p>

Mozzie sighed at the other end. "Rebny... he lost his heart for it. And he is raising kids, nearly grown now. He always said he'd retire someday."

Neal peered through the glass back into the gallery. Peter was approaching the door, still talking to Elizabeth.

"Peter didn't know the signature. I'll avoid telling him until I can talk to Rebny."

"I'll see what I can do to set you up."

Peter was not pleased Neal was holding back. He knew this guy, he could feel it. They ran the name 'Reb' through the FBI database and came up with a decent number of possibilities. But he could tell Neal already knew who it was. He just went along, pointing out each one's specialties.

"I don't know El." He said over lunch. "Maybe I should follow him after work."

"Honey," She studied her dinner thoughtfully. "I'm not saying he wouldn't hold back. But you've given him room before. Why don't you see if he comes to you in a day or so?"

"I'm afraid if I give him too much leash he'll hang himself with it."

She reached out and squeezed his hand. "Peter, I think if whatever he suspected was dangerous, he'd tell you."

"True. Well, maybe I'll just keep an eye on his tracking data."

"If it makes you feel better."

After dinner, Peter glanced at the laptop, noting Neal's location as he multi-tasked watching the game and reading files. "El, what's on that street?" He pointed to his laptop screen, swiveling to her. She glanced up from folding laundry.

"New restaurant. Delight of Arwen I think it's called."

"Hmm."

"Maybe he's on a date."

"Maybe." Peter eyed the tracker but decided to leave it be. Neal could be prickly at the reminder he was being monitored. In truth, he knew he walked a fine line between overprotective friend and parole officer. He didn't want to alienate his friend for no reason.


	2. Chapter 2

Neal had dinner that night with Rebny and Mozzie at a nice restaurant. They talked mostly old times and small talk first. "I'm glad to finally meet you, Neal." Patrick Rebny said calmly. "I've heard good things." The man had a wise, clever air about him. He looked aged more by events than time's passage. his blue grey eyes sparkled, contrasting with his dark skin.

"I've heard a lot too." Neal said carefully.

"So why don't you tell me why you really wanted to meet so urgently? And let me say in advance: I really am out of the business."

"So I've heard. But..." he glanced at Mozzie, almost questioning. Should he tell him? Moz shrugged. "What if I told you, a recent forgery was discovered with your signature."

"How recent?"

"Since you retired."

"Impossible. Only paintings I do now are originals, and I sell those for charity."

Neal nodded slowly, sipping his wine. "The FBI has this forgery."

Rebny's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Look son, I am retired. What are you getting at?"

"If you didn't forge it, then someone has forged you forging it. Who would want to do that?"

Rebny's eyes took on a far away look. "You know the game son. We do make enemies. Why do you care about it?"

Neal twirled the glass lightly, considering. After a second, he glanced around. Mozzie had chosen a secluded corner to sit where watchers would have been obvious. He carefully pulled out the consultant ID and showed it to him.

Rebny looked skeptical, eyes scanning the room for Feds. "This some kind of trap or is that evidence of your forgery skills?"

"Neither. Look, they didn't recognize the whole signature, but they are running down everyone who has 'Reb' in the name that's been on their radar. Sooner or later, you'll come up. And my partner, Peter...Agent Burke, he'll find out sooner or later. So if it's not you, we'd best find a way to get ahead of it, figure out who might forge a painting and put your signature to it"

Rebny looked genuinely concerned now. "What kind of man is this Agent Burke?"

" He got me this job as consultant wearing the tracker so I don't have to rot in jail." Neal's lip curled in a half smile. "We have our differences, but I'll allow he's trying to help me even if we don't agree on the specifics."

Rebny chuckled at this. "I can picture what that means!" He nodded, also nursing his glass. He glanced at Mozzie. "If I say I want to meet him, and help find this guy, will he slap the cuffs on or will he listen?"

Mozzie's jaw dropped. "You want to take that risk? Trusting a Fed?"

"I'd rather risk it in private than have them march in publicly. Think what it would do to the people I'm trying to help."

Neal nodded. "I'll talk to him."

Peter motioned Neal into his office first thing in the morning. "Know anything about this guy?" He handed him Patrick Rebny's file. He's one of the few 'Rebs' we've run down that's not dead, in prison, or otherwise accounted for." Peter was watching him closely.

Neal closed the door. "He's retired and he wants to meet you."

Peter looked taken aback. Then his eyes narrowed. Knowing Neal knew more than he was saying was expected. Finding out the suspect wanted to meet him was another matter."

"What? Where do you get that?"

Neal sucked in a deep breath, let it out slowly, watching Peter warily. "Rebny retired after 9/11. He and his crew were going to pull a job in the world trade center that day."

Peter winced.

"His wife wanted him to drop the job. She went there to persuade him. But he was running late. She got there first. He was in sight of the towers when...they came down."

"And she never came back."

Neal shook his head. "They had three kids. Rebny swore afterward he'd never pull a job again. He started volunteering, working with charities. Any stash he had was given away to help people in need. He got a regular job working with them and all his art now is legit. It goes for charity too. It's his way of honoring her."

Peter stared at him. "Yet we have a recent forgery."

"Yes. And it doesn't make any sense. The only thing that comes to mind is someone wants us to think it's him."

"Forging the forger?" Peter sounded slightly incredulous.

Neal shrugged. "It's not unheard of. Rebny is good. He made enemies. He probably still does, though now it's for different reasons."

Peter leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen and frowning. "You said he wants to meet. Does that mean you've already talked to him?"

"We had dinner."

Peter glared at him.

"Oh come on," Neal responded to the disapproval radiating from the agent. "Think what happens if I'm right and this is a set up. All those charities he's supported and his family will be affected too. It's not the kind of damage you can just undo."

"Is that why he wants to meet? To talk me out of pursuing him?"

"He wants to figure out who is imitating him so it doesn't come back on his people." Neal paused. His eyes held his partner's. "Peter, you said people can change." He leaned forward in his seat. "Don't blow up this guy's new life without hearing him out."

Peter shook his head slowly, considering the risks. "So much," he noted, "for imitation being the sincerest form of flattery."


	3. Chapter 3

Rebny's agreement to actually meet at the FBI surprised Peter and appalled Mozzie. But he insisted he'd done nothing wrong. So they met in a conference room. After the introductions, Rebny leaned forward, and asked "May I see it?"

Peter studied him thoughtfully. "You'll need to wear gloves."

Neal glanced between them as Rebny pulled on grey gloves and carefully inspected the painting Jones brought in.

The man sucked in a concerned breath. "Blasted good imitation, I'll give them that. I suppose I should be complimented." But he didn't look happy.

"Do you still have any of your legitimate stuff? Is there anything anyone could have copied off of?" Neal inquired. "Most people wouldn't know..." he glanced at Peter, warily, "about any ...alleged forgeries you've done to copy the secret signature."

Rebny slowly. "I only know of one I was charged with and," he smiled dryly, "I got off on a technicality." He reached into a portfolio he'd brought, and carefully laid out three paintings. Jones whistled.

"Nice!" Neal leaned forward appreciatively. They were semi realistic, with a touch of something unique to the artist. One of them showed a woman holding a child, with tears in her eyes, an American flag, and ghostly twin towers behind. Their eyes all were drawn to it.

"I've had prints made of that one. But I can't bear to part with the original." He said quietly. "All the money goes for a charity to help the survivor's and families. Some of them still have health problems."

Peter picked up a magnifying glass and looked at the signatures. Neal was doing the same.

After a moment, Neal looked at the Orwin forgery, a much more abstract modern piece and compared it to Rebny's originals.

"Your style really isn't anything like his."

"No." Peter shook his head.

"Truth be told, I'm not a fan of Orwin's style at all. And I can assure you, I've only ever imitated those I like."

Peter studied the man. He was not as casually dressed as Mozzie, but neither was he anywhere near as impeccable as Neal. His suit had a well worn quality to it.

"So how many have you sold? Who would know you were a forger and be close enough to you to get a hold of your artist's signature from back then then?" Peter asked.

Neal added "This isn't quite the same. This one has a symbol at the end." He was looking at the current forgery.

Rebny's fingers tapped the table lightly. "My attorney for one. Family, a few friends, I felt I owed them the truth. I've actually taught art classes at some of our charity outreach events. Anyone who bought the art could do the signature this well. But I only do a few a year. I really haven't the time for more. And..." he smiled "hypothetically speaking, I might have had one similar to that, back when I didn't sign my whole name."

"I think they'd need your actual art to come so close on the stroke style." Neal studied the special tribute painting. "Not a print."

"Yes. So someone who either bought it or studied it. But my former career, well, I guess the charges were on record but very few people know about them now."

"I guess we'll start there than." Peter decided. "Maybe someone wasn't happy about that verdict."

"What about someone not happy you quit the business? Did you back out of any jobs when you retired?"

"Well...there was Philrone. He had a woman lined up that wanted a forger for a job. We'd nearly settled the details when I...decided to retire." His voice faltered at the memory. I gave back the retainer fee for the paints and supplies, but they weren't happy."

"We'll check that, too." Peter said thoughtfully. "Thanks for your help."

"Please...find a way to stop this person without, ...without destroying what I've built since. Please."

"We'll do our best."

Neal turned back to Peter. "Well?"

"I'll allow he seems to be on the up and up. But it's not going to be easy. We can run checks on all the people surrounding him but word is liable to leak. And we need to search his studio."

Neal opened his mouth to object.

"You said they are close, Neal. What if they are so close they even used his own equipment?"

"I can't imagine anyone hating Rebny that much."

"We couldn't imagine the events of September 11, either." Peter considered sadly. Then he turned to Jones, who was reading over a file. "Jones, do a discreet search of the charity. See if anyone is on our watch list. Maybe someone is working there that isn't retired."

"Will do."

Neal shivered.

"Problem?"

"I just feel bad for him..."

"You weren't in New York when it happened. September 11th I mean."

"No."

"What were you doing?"

"Ha. Nice try."

"It can't just be previously unknown crimes keeping your mouth shut."

"No. I just don't want to talk about it."

Peter nodded, studying him. "If you ever do...I'm here. Okay? I just want to help. And I know you must have some kind of issues leftover."

Neal smiled slightly. "Maybe someday," he replied in a not – likely - but -thanks - for - the - offer tone.

"What were you doing?"

Peter's lips tightened. "Working. Everyone in law enforcement got the call to come to work, no matter what division. And everyone was distracted by concern for their own families. I finally got through to Elizabeth. It was before we moved to the place we live now. She was frantic, I was frantic. People I knew died that day."

"I'm sorry." Neal whispered.

"Bad day for everyone."

"Yeah. No limits. No barriers. I heard guys in lock up were locked down because they were in a panic over their families. The guards were having issues too for the same reason. And even they couldn't get home."

Peter shook his head. "That day it was just American. Not con nor free, cop or robber. Just American."

Neal nodded slowly.


	4. Chapter 4

"We found another forgery in his studio."

"Oh come on! This guy is way to good to be that stupid."

Peter was staring at this second painting in puzzlement. "I tend to agree."

"The charities he's running all come up clean. So do the employees."

"Could he be doing the forgeries for the charities?" Jones asked.

"Well, I guess I could see him doing that...," Neal said slowly and doubtfully, "but leaving this out in plain sight?"

"I don't quite buy it either." Peter frowned. "I can see him doing it, but if he cares about his charities that much, it would be awfully sloppy to leave it lying around. It's almost like he wanted to get caught."

Neal shook his head. "No way. He wouldn't want the charity going down. He begged us to avoid it."

"Could it have been planted?"

"It was freshly painted. He was in the studio and it was right there."

"Should we pick him up, Boss?" Diana inquired.

Neal bit his tongue, trying not to object. He wouldn't convince them on belief alone. "Can't you wait until he's at home, in private? At least minimize the scandal? Think of all those kids from the community programs he helps fund."

Peter sighed. "All right. Get the warrant. Let's get some lunch. We have that long to figure out what is going on."

Peter had lunch with Elizabeth. She sat, enjoying her meal and eyeing Peter. "Well, what did Neal do now? Or is it something you're afraid he'll do?"

"It's not him for a change. Something doesn't feel right with this case. It really does look like this guy did it. But..."

"So what's the problem?"

"Neal convinced me to talk to him first. He apparently went straight after his wife died in 9/11 while trying to convince him not to pull a job. He started doing volunteering and charity work. He's done a lot of good stuff. He's donated money, started programs and really seemed disturbed that someone might've been...well, forging the forger..."

"But now it looks like he did it after all." Elizabeth asked.

"But it's so sloppy. Another forgery, right there when he was in the studio, not even hidden? He knew that it could flashback on the charity. Why?"

"Didn't you say it had to be someone close?"

"Someone who knew he was a forger and had access to his current work?"

"Yeah."

"Could he be protecting someone?"

"He'd have to care an awful lot to put the charities at risk."

Peter finally took a bite of his sandwich. He barely tasted it. His mind was caught on the puzzle.

"Well at least it's not Neal distracting you for a change. Did he know him personally?"

"No. Neal didn't come to New York after he retired, though he won't say from where. Rebny's been doing this since Neal would've been a little kid..." Peter choked and turned to gape at her.

"What?" She thumped on the back. "Honey?"

"Neal..." he whispered. "Kids. This guy has kids!"

He yanked out his phone. "Jones...have we found out anything about Rebny's kids? Pull everything we've got." He smiled at Elizabeth and took a big bite of sandwich.

"Glad I was able to help." Elizabeth smiled and turned back to her own lunch.

* * *

><p>"Really?" Neal's eyes widened at the files. "How old is this kid?"<p>

"Seventeen and he's in boarding school, but he has been in some minor trouble with the authorities. He's on probation at the school for gambling."

"Gambling. I wonder if he's gambled with the wrong people."

"Like the kind that threaten you into forging paintings?"

"Or he owes money."

"He was home four weeks ago for a temporary suspension."

Neal cocked his head thoughtfully, leaning on the conference table. "I still don't get why he'd forge his Dad's signature."

"Daddy issues?" Peter glanced at Neal, who didn't rise to the obvious curiosity in his gaze. The bomb shell Neal had dropped when he'd inquired about his Dad, the news that Neal's father was a crooked cop had left him burning to know what else was hidden in his secret childhood.

"Could be."

They moved into the conference room when Diana and Jones came in with their reports. "Guess who is involved in a gambling right around that fancy boarding school neighborhood? Jones asked.

"Who?" Peter demanded.

"Philrone." Diana replied.

Neal whistled. "Not good."

"Do you think he's connected?" Jones frowned.

"The kids attending that boarding school would be the type that hang out with Philrone's back room gambling dens. He's a pretty well known middle man although they haven't had the evidence to take him down with. He goes for high rollers." Diana offered.

"He's pretty slick." Neal noted. "Always keeps a degree of separation between him and the job." He was perusing the file Diana had brought in.

"So if Ricky Rebny was gambling and ended up owing Philrone, he might've had to forge the painting to get out of it."

"But would he do that to his own father?" Jones asked looking surprised.

"Maybe he blames him for his mother's death." Neal said slowly. "Or maybe..."

Peter stared at him. "Maybe what?"

"Maybe he doesn't know the risk. I mean, there are already plenty of allegedly forged Rebny paintings around. What's one more? But Ricky isn't a painter." Neal frowned.

"No. But his little brother, Sam, is." Peter said. "And he goes to the same school."

"So, Sam forges it for his brother, puts Dad's name on it and figures it'll be worth more to pay off the debt?"

"Maybe Philrone thought he was squeezing Patrick directly." Neal noted.

"We need to find out. And if he is..." Peter said with a slow smile. "Than maybe we can use that to take down Philrone."

Diana smiled. "The kid's are minors."

Neal sat up, grinning. "So if we can get them to cooperate, it won't blow up on the charity...what about Rebny himself?"

"I think we can work it out. But we need to confirm this. That means we need someone to talk to those kids..."

"He already knows me..."

"And me. But if Rebny himself will admit it and go along..."

"If it means saving his kids he might." Neal observed.


	5. Chapter 5

Patrick Rebny looked from Neal Caffrey to Peter Burke. He had been picked up discreetly and not officially arrested.

"So..." he paused, frowning. "You want me to con my own kids?"

Peter glanced sidelong at Neal. "We can prove you were painting a copy of a painting, that may or not have been intended to be sold as a forgery. . But we don't believe that's what happened. You do realize if your kids did this, and we believe they did, and you are protecting them, they are minors and probably were under pressure?"

"I'm not saying anything yet." Patrick replied slowly. "But I'm listening."

"We want Philrone. If we can prove that your son owed him and was pressured to pay him back with a painting, we have him on extortion. But we have to know the details. Right now we don't have all the connections. Why forge your name? Was it Philrone's idea? Or did he think your son would run to you and he could get you to do it out of desperation?"

"What exactly would I have to do?"

"I'll go in undercover as a high roller." Neal said. "But you can't give away who I am. We won't get honest answers from the kids if they are scared of this guy and they know who we are. They might warn Philrone. And no offense...but they might not give honest answers to you either."

"You think they'd lie to me?" Patrick's blue gray eyes eyes narrowed.

"Did they tell you about this? You obviously didn't know before we came to you. They might be ashamed of themselves. They might not want you to know. They might be afraid of Philrone. There are a lot of reasons they might."

"Yeah." Patrick sighed. "They're old enough to remember me lying to people. I didn't lie to their Mom. But still. I was no role model."

Peter was still studying Neal. "Yeah. I know it can be hard to lie to people you care about, even if it's for their own good."

Neal noticed Peter's gaze and he stared back for a moment. He looked away sharply after a moment, lips tight.

"What about...will they be charged with anything?" Patrick worried.

"They're kids. I'm sure we can offer either immunity or at least a deal. Either way, they're minors."

"I'll do it, to save them. But it's a long time since I did this, and never to my kids." He looked troubled. "I just hope they'll forgive me."

"Okay, you said the boys will be home this weekend." Peter observed. "We need you introduce Neal as a friend of a friend. We'll give you his alias by then."

Rebny nodded slowly and was allowed to leave. They watched him walk away.

Neal studied Peter carefully. "You still don't trust him."

"He's taking a leap of faith that we will be better for his kids than Philrone. But it's obvious he doesn't like lying to them."

"I should hope not!" Neal's voice was sharp with disapproval.

Peter was instantly reminded of Neal's reaction whenever he withheld from him. It was pretty odd, considering his own tendency to withhold the truth. "Neal, we're trying to help here."

"I know we are. But you want him to lie to his kids."

"What's your point?"

"They're family."

Peter filed this in his mental file on reasons to find out about Neal Caffrey's childhood.

It was three days until the weekend and it took that long to sort out the plan.

"Boys, this is Nick Halden. He's interested in buying some of my art."

"Nick, this is Rick and Sam." The boys nodded to him, shaking his hand politely.

Rick looked distracted, but Sam was intent. "Are you an artist too?"

"I dabble." Neal smiled.

"Excuse me a moment. Let me get out some of my work. Boys, will you keep Nick entertained?"

Neal sat down on a chair. The boys were on the couch.

Rick rolled his eyes. Sam offered him some soda.

Neal declined. His cell phone rang and he answered. "Halden."

"Show time." Peter replied. "We're ready here."

"Look, I told you, the games too small. I don't play small timers. I'm looking for a big game now. All I've been able to find is small timers lately."

Rick had finally stirred, showing interest. He kept glancing at him now. Sam was flipping through a sketch book . He found a page and started sketching with swift, smooth strokes.

Neal finally disconnected. He pulled out a pack of playing cards and started idly doing tricks with them. Ricky definitely was watching discreetly now.

Patrick came back in, bringing in three paintings. "Okay. Here they are."

"Nice." Neal studied them. They were unique, not forgeries. But the paint strokes were smooth, blends merging with no obvious transition. Light color streaked through darker edges, with fine contrast. His admiration was real. They spent some minutes negotiating price, Neal regretted he wasn't buying for real. Of course, he normally just stole artwork, but this one was for charity. He wouldn't steal from children or the needy. "Do you take cash?" Neal pulled out a wad of bills that definitely attracted the boy's attention.

"I can. But let me get you a receipt."

"You got somewhere to be? Or can you hang out for a bit."

"I've got some time." They chatted a few minutes and Rebny's house phone rang. Neal knew it was Peter giving him an opening.

"Excuse me a sec."

Rick finally spoke. "Where did you learn to do that?" He motioned to the playing cards he'd left on the arm of the chair.

"Oh, here and there." He smiled.

"You gamble?"

"Some." Neal's eyes sparkled. "I'm looking for a good game now in fact."

"If you are that hot, how come you don't get invited to games?" Rick demanded suspiciously. His dark eyes were tight with suspicion.

"I do. But I've been out of the area for awhile. Takes time for word to get around I'm back and up for a game."

Rick eyed him. "I might know someone who knows where the games are." He glanced sidelong at the door his father had left through. "I'd rather Dad didn't know I knew this guy though. He doesn't like his crowd anymore."

"Can you put me in touch?"

"Yeah. But he'll call you. After he checks you out."

In the van, Peter and Jones glanced at each other. "Now that sounds promising."

Neal glanced at the door Patrick had gone through. He leaned closer to the boys. "How do I know you are on the up and up. You don't exactly look like someone who'd know gamblers."

Rick shrugged. "What does a gambler look like? Dad used to know a lot of these kind of guys." The boy's dark eyes sparkled with excitement.

Neal recognized it instantly. The thrill of danger and taking a risk that came with pulling the con. This boy was on the brink of entering the life, lured by the promise of excitement and glamor.

"He used to forge art you know."

"Ricky!" Sam looked up sharply, alarmed. "You shouldn't tell him that."

"Well, he was good at it. We used to watch him doing it."

"He's good at doing his original stuff too."

"Yeah, but that's not as...as..."

Neal smiled slowly. "Exciting?"

They looked at him uncertainly.

"It's a gamble. Believe me, I know the lure." Neal smiled wryly.


	6. Chapter 6

"It's amazing how he can be conning someone and yet totally honest at the same time." Diana was shaking her head and smiling at Neal's remark to the boys.

"I wonder how much of it is conning himself." Peter noted.

They were parked in the van, listening as Neal Caffrey AKA 'Nick Halden' easily insinuated himself into Philrone's gambling club.

Neal was up and down in the gambling, winning, losing and winning again. It seemed completely random. But they knew he was establishing current credit as a 'player' to back up the credentials he already had under the alias. Peter cringed whenever he lost.

"Do you ever wonder at lending him all this money?" Diana asked, studying her boss.

"Oh yeah. One of these days I should let him get chewed out for the mistakes."

Neal had won a great deal of money. More than Philrone was inclined to let him out with.

"Listen, son." Philrone said while smoking a truly nasty cigar. Neal fought the urge to cough, mentally noting the man had truly bad taste in smokes and clothes. "I cannot in all fairness to you carry that kind of cash down the street. And to be honest, we do not prefer to deal in checks or money transfers."

"I won fair and square." Neal's eyes narrowed.

In the van, Peter rolled his eyes doubtfully.

"Now don't fret. I was going to suggest something of value. A painting perhaps? The average mugger could not identify it as valuable, as they could cash."

"I might be interested. What's your problem with the usual methods?"

"Too easily traced."

"Well, show me the painting."

Neal's eyes lit up as as a woman brought in the painting. It wasn't large, but it was another Orwin. "Not bad..." Neal sounded wary. "I thought these were all in museums."

Neal's eyes had already spotted the minor indiscretion that marked Rebny's signature. He continued to study it. "In fact, I've studied this artist a lot. Where did you get it?"

"Does it matter?"

"Here we go." Peter murmured.

"All right." Neal left. Voices continued after he left, proving that Caffrey had dropped a few discreet bugs. The van drove a few blocks. Neal arrived a few moments later, phony Orwin in a tube in his hand.

"Now between the bugs you dropped here and the ones at Rebny's let's hope the boy's admit the forgery and implicate Philrone."

* * *

><p>Neal smiled as he visited Rebny the next day. He spent hours talking art with Sam and regaling Rick with his gambling exploits. "Wow. I won an Orwin." He grinned at the boys. Not bad huh? Heck of a trade. It should be worth more than what I won."<p>

The expression on Sam's face was one of dismay and he glanced at Rick. His lips were turned down.

Rick glanced at Sam's guilty expression and said "Wow. I hope he didn't steal it or something. All sorts of people gamble there." He spoke quickly.

"Well, I'll be careful." Neal frowned. "I better have it authenticated."

At this even Rick flinched.

"Well, I have to go. Thanks for telling me about the game guys." He twirled his fedora back onto his head, well aware that the two boys behind him were radiating guilt.

The boy's voices came clearly over the audio they had recorded from the van as Neal looked up and down the block. He climbed in and grabbed headphones.

"This is wrong, Rick! He's a nice guy and he just got taken for a lot of money."

Peter gave a mild snort, Neal shot him a slightly offended look.

"We can't tell him. He'll tell Dad for sure."

"And what about Dad, huh?" The younger boy's voice was panicked. "If they test it, they'll find out Dad's name is on it. They'll think he painted it. They could arrest him, Rick!"

"Come on" Peter urged softly.

Ricky's voice finally came, strained. "He'd have killed me, Sam. I owed so much. And he said I could pay in paintings. He knew Dad was a forger and could do it again. But I can't tell Dad! I can't!"

Neal smiled and Peter smiled back. "Got him. Now we have to convince the boy's to deal."

Neal's smile dropped. "And protect them. Don't forget, Philrone won't be happy."

"Yeah."

Peter reached for the off switch. Sam's voice continued. "I can't let Dad get any in trouble for what I did. Maybe I could pay Nick back somehow."

Neal's eyes widened and he cocked his head.

"Don't even think about it." Peter snorted. "Anyway, it's the agencies money and we will get it back."

"I would never steal from children." Neal considered. "But I'm surprised he'd even think of it with everything else going on."

"Impressively honest. You could learn something."

"I believe in honesty. It's a very challenging game." Neal fired back.

"You don't practice it very often."

"I never lie to you."

Peter sighed.


	7. Chapter 7

The two boys were in shock. They sat in the FBI conference room with Patrick Rebny.

"You're a Fed!" Rick gasped, gaping at Neal.

"No. He's a consultant." Peter replied. "And this is the White Collar division. Art forgery and theft is included under White Collar crimes.

"But you know so much about art and everything." Sam looked bewildered, still gaping at Neal.

"That's what I consult on. Art. "

"Forger." Peter interjected. "And cons. That's what he consults on."

"I can do my own stuff too." Neal fired back at Peter.

"Forger like..." Sam started.

"Like me." Rebny said softly.

"I'll take that as a compliment." Neal smiled.

"Compliment?" Peter observed. "Oh so you really are planning to follow his example and go straight?"

"Peter. I'm hurt."

Peter rolled his eyes in dismay.

Rick was still very stiff. "I can't believe my own Dad sold us out."

"He did not sell you out." Peter stated firmly. "He is trying to protect you."

"So we aren't going to jail?" Sam looked scared.

"We want Philrone. You can help us."

Rick shouted, "He'll kill me!"

"We won't let that happen!" Peter's voice was firm.

"You didn't answer about jail," Sam said.

"You're worried about jail when I could be murdered!" Rick turned to him.

"No one is going to be..." Peter started.

"I've heard what happens in jail..." Sam started.

"Enough!" Patrick Rebny yelled. The boys looked up. "Boys, just shut up and listen."

Neal looked at Peter and then Sam.

"The worst punishment you are likely to get is community service," Neal observed.

"And we will protect you from Philrone." Peter finished.

"Boys, listen, Philrone is mad at me because he wanted me to do a job before I retired. He was using you to get at me. Or he thought he was, only since you didn't tell me, it didn't quite work how he expected." Patrick explained.

Sam's fingers clenched a pencil. He fiddled with it. "Will we get expelled?"

Rebny sighed. "Maybe."

"But my art and my grades. I'm finally getting my grade point up."

"No-one can take away your art!" Neal responded leaning toward him. He tapped the notepad in front of the boy. It was already covered with doodles.

"If you are a forger, do you still get to do art even if you get caught?" The boy fretted.

"Of course."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I just try and make sure he sticks to originals."

"My life is at stake and they are talking about art." Rick grumbled arms crossed. "What do you want me to do?"

"Keep forging that last one."

Sam's eyes went wide.

"And then deliver it like normal. Tell him you won't do anymore."

Rick eyes were huge with fear. "I can't do that."

"Neal going to show up dragging you, furious over being 'conned'. He'll say he had the art authenticated and he found Rebny's signature. He'll be insisting on payback."

"Then he'll kill both of us."

"No, he won't. Neal knows what to say to bring us in." Peter stated firmly.

"But the goal is to get Philrone to brag about how he got even with your Dad."

Rick's eyes took on a far away look. Then he came back and looked at his father. His lips were tight, worried.

"Rick, son, you've got an addiction. Gambling is an addiction. Like the rush of the con, or a drug, if you don't stop it now, it will destroy everything you love." Rebny pleaded.

Rick turned to look at Neal. "Are you addicted?"

Peter looked at a Neal. Inwardly, Neal cringed. Outwardly, he admitted, "Let's say I do love a rush."

"Okay. I'll do it."

* * *

><p>Neal looked at Rick. The boy wasn't faking his fear. Neal was faking his confidence too. He hated dragging the boy in there. It would be different going alone. "Ready."<p>

"Never will be." Rick replied.

"Right. Let's get it over with."

Neal grabbed the boy's wrist, twisting it behind his back and pretending to hold on. He shoved him against the wall and violently banged on Philrone's door.

Two big bouncers appeared at once. "Let me see Philrone."

The two moved threateningly toward them and Rick shrank against him. A voice squawked over a speaker and one of the men put a hand to his ear and nodded. He opened the door, then each man grabbed one of them and hauled them in. Their grip was strong enough to bruise.

"Hey!" Neal slithered free, shaking himself and waving the art forgery at Philrone. The man was sitting at an opulent desk in the study off the gambling den. "You tricked me. This things a fake! It's a forgery and you can see Rebny's signature."

"My dear Mr. Halden, calm down. What are you talking about?"

"Calm down? I had it authenticated. They found Rebny's signature. So I went to his place and pried the truth out of this kid!"

Philrone's eyes narrowed dangerously. Neal kept a wary eye on the bouncers. Rick, still held by the bouncer, was frozen with terror.

"Please! I didn't tell him, he already knew!"

"The boy owed me money Mr. Halden. I assure you a Rebny forgery can pass enough tests to earn a great deal of money. You included. Perhaps I could give you an extra for your trouble. I could use a go between and I know you have the resources."

Neal's eyes were narrow. "How do you get Rebny to do forgeries so easily? Far as I can tell the guy is legit."

"He was once an excellent forger. But he made the mistake of backing out of a job for me. Then his son here," he stood up and poked Rick, and Neal tensed as well, "decided to spend some time gambling with me. He lost a great deal of money. His father would do anything, even forge again, to protect him."

"That's interesting. You have quite a cash cow."

"That's it. Move in." Peter said. The team hurried into position. "Watch out for the security cams."

"Yes, but I think this one needs a lesson." Philrone's continued, his voice was cold.

Neal sidestepped slowly closer to the big bruiser and Rick. "He's your connection to Rebny. Hurt him and he might not cooperate." The other one was posted by the door.

"Hold him and his father give me everything I want." Philrone smiled.

The lights went out. Crashing and shouts of "FBI" rang out. Neal kicked hard. His foot slammed with a thud into the man still holding the boy. The man yelped and swung one handed close enough for Neal to feel the breeze but he had already jumped sideways. At the same instant he pulled Rick down.

The lights came on. Both the bodyguards were armed and pointing the weapons in the place Neal and Ricky had been. But they were surrounded by armor vested FBI agents, just as armed.

"Drop the guns!" Peter's voice was firm. "Where's Philrone?"

Neal looked up and around. His eyes widened staring at the floor. There was a suspicious half circle scrape mark on the carpet from the wall, the fibers rubbed in a pattern. "Look." He got up and ran to the bookcase, pulled. It swung out and flattened the rug, revealing the opening. The team ran in. Diana radioed out to look out for Philrone, possibly there was a hidden exit.

They ran down a short hall. Up ahead, Philrone's shadow appeared as light was revealed through an opening door. Running, Neal caught the door as it closed, yanked it open and saw Philrone out in the street. Diana radioed out. More shouts of FBI, Philrone raising the gun.

Neal skidded to a halt as Philrone fell. He turned away and backtracked to the study to find the boy. Rick was still shaking with adrenaline.

Peter and Diana headed toward Philrone.

A few minutes later, Neal walked out with Rick. Patrick Rebny ran up, hugged Rick. "You have no idea how hard it was to let you go through that." He looked up at Neal, "I heard gunfire."

Rick shivered.

Neal was quiet.

Peter strode around the corner. He stopped by them. Neal looked up. "Philrone...is no longer a problem."

"He's...dead?" Rick asked.

Peter nodded.

Neal's eyes dropped thoughtfully.

Rick looked up at his father sadly. "Dad, I'm sorry...I...I kind of blamed you for...for Mom being at the world trade center that day.."

Patrick looked startled. "I've blamed me Ricky."

"But now I know. It's not so easy to stop being a gambler. No matter what your gambling with. Your freedom or money or … committing crimes...you've done amazing starting over since Mom died. And I'm...proud...of you for all the charity work."

"I'm proud of you too. Let's go home to Sam and see about getting our lives back together."

Hugging his son, Patrick Rebny glanced up at them and mouthed "Thank You."

Peter nodded and nudged Neal. "Let's go."

They rode back to the office in near silence for a time.

Peter finally broke it. "So, do you still think it was wrong for him to lie to his kids to save them and the charity?"

"Mm." Neal looked uncertain. "Well, they are still kids." Which wasn't really an answer.

"Uh huh." Peter was still looking sideways at him. "Not quite grown up yet. Makes you want to protect them."

"Are you trying to tell me something?"

"No, Peter Pan. I'd never try and keep something from you for your own protection because I'm afraid you'll be too tempted and wind up back in prison."

Neal stared at him, eyes narrowed..

"And by the way, would you like to buy the Brooklyn Bridge?" Peter added.

Neal 's eyes widened, the corner of his lip started to curl up. Peter was smiling. Neal gave in and smiled back, shaking his head. "Nope. I heard it's too expensive to maintain. However if you already own it...I have a toll booth to sell you."

"Let me guess. It came fully loaded with coins but you gave them all to the poor..."

Neal and Peter both laughed.

The End


End file.
